Flight

No, not that nonsense about the Tiber foaming with much blood, but when he said: "Every cross-country flight ends in failure." Actually, he said it about political careers, but it can equally be applied to paragliding flights. Not, of course, triangles, out-and-returns, flights to goal or to the coast; but our typical British down-wind dashes end with failure to stay in the air, when we'd usually have liked to fly further. Today's was no exception

Things I got right: 

-- Paul Hargreaves and I went to the right hill at the right time (Milk Hill, 1030 or so), having wondered about Rybury and before that about Devil's Dyke, as the excellent forecast for south central England of a few days earlier worsened the day before. But I thought that a crowded Dyke in a WNW would be horrible (was it?).

-- Going over the back early. But it wasn't really a decision. After a little scratching, I found a climb that was strong enough not to want to fall out of, and it quickly took me behind the hill low. Never mind, I thought, I can walk back with my glider bunched up. But the land behind Milk Hill stays high for a while, and I kept creeping upwards, not smoothly, but in fits and starts, until I knew I was definitely going to have to pack my glider up before walking back.

-- Sticking with the lift. I don't think I stopped going round for the first six or seven kilometres. There were some strong lumps, but I never got established in a good core.

-- Keeping my landing options open. I soon had to decide whether to go north or south of a big wood. I'd almost decided on north, when I found a proper climb, which made the wood no longer a problem. A hawk far below me helped me find it, although I lost the bird after one 360 (it soon reappeared above me and way off to the north). The climbs were coming off the sunny south-facing slopes of the high ground, and dust from combine harvesters showed that it had much more south in it low down than up high.

-- Not going into cloud.